The Old Magicks of Pendle
by Rule23
Summary: Eileen's torn between her family's expectations of her and her desire to go her own way. Can be read either as a stand-alone or as a prequel to Whiteboards (my completed HGSS fic).


**Disclaimer**_**: **_Anything you recognise belongs to the incomparable J. K. Rowling. No money is being made from this.

**Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition – Season Seven – Round Two**

**Beater 2 for the Tutshill Tornados**

**Round Two:**

Who doesn't love to travel?! The downside of the experience is the expense. One of the best ways I have found to experience a bit of a culture is through exploring their dances. It's a fun way to get moving, but learn for a lower price than traveling!

**BEATER 2**: The Adumu Dance from Africa; **write about a character that breaks a familial or societal tradition.**

**Additional Prompts:**

(action) dancing the tango

(object) snow

(setting) on a farm

**Thanks to the Tutshill Tornados for betaing!**

**This story is set in the same universe as Whiteboards but also works as a stand-alone.**

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The Old Magicks of Pendle

Words: 1139

* * *

_Miss Eileen Prince_

_The Smallest Bedroom_

_Pendlefoot Farm_

_Lancashire_

"You may as well throw that out, 'Leen," her mam said as she peeled potatoes over the sink. "None of us have gone."

Eileen flipped the creamy envelope over and traced the lines of the Hogwarts crest embedded into the wax seal.

"A Heathershaw has never even owned a wand and we've done just fine without," her gran chimed in from a comfortable armchair in the corner of the room, her feet propped up on an earthen footstool. "We're people of the land."

"But—"

"No buts, 'Leen," her gran said in a hard voice, wagging a finger at her. "Heathershaws do not kowtow to the bleeding Ministry of Magic with their wands and their outrageous policies. And we certainly don't go to their ridiculous school."

"But I'm a Prince, not a Heathershaw!" Eileen snapped, punctuating her proclamation with a stomp of her foot.

"Neither do Princes. Just ask your da when he gets back from the sheep." Her mam stared at her imperiously over her shoulder before turning back to her potatoes.

"But I can't do the magic that you and Da can. I'm not like you!"

"I said no. That's the end of it. Now come and shell these peas."

"Yes, Mam." She dropped her precious letter onto the scrubbed surface of the wooden table and joined her mam at the sink.

* * *

The next morning, Eileen awoke to find the farm covered in a thick blanket of white. The early-morning light glittered like diamonds as it rebounded from each snow-covered surface, somehow making the world look new. The run-down, wooden barn now stood proudly, transformed into the likeness of a Grecian temple with glittering shards of ice hanging from its lintels. The earth of one of the nearer fields, carefully shaped by her mam's hands, was no longer raised into harsh mounds and furrows; instead, the snow rippled across the field in gentle waves. Pendle Hill, the weirdly-oblong mound that had been the centre of her family's lives for centuries, stood like a silent, marble tomb, looming over the valley.

She let out a long-suffering sigh before pulling on her warmest clothes. Where there was snow, there was work to be done.

"Your da's going to try and teach you more about manipulating water today," her mam said as Eileen shuffled into the kitchen. She tried not to wince at the word "try." She seriously doubted she'd be any better today than she had been any of the other times.

"Yes, Mam."

"He's outside already. Go and help him until I call you in for breakfast."

Eileen quickly gulped the glass of milk her mam shoved into her hand, pulled her green wellies on, and ventured out into the biting wind.

"And how's my little snowflake today?" her da asked. A huge grin graced his face, wrinkling the bridge of his large nose and deepening his crows-feet.

"I hate the snow," she said, the softness in her voice counteracting her harsh words.

"Hate the snow?" her da gasped, clutching his hand to his chest in a mock heart attack. "How can you hate it?" He stretched his arms wide and closed his eyes. "Can't you feel it singing inside of you? Stretching for miles? Can't you feel each lump, bump, and burrow it clothes in its pristine newness?"

Eileen copied her da, throwing her arms out wide and screwing up her eyes in concentration.

"The only thing I feel is ridiculous." She couldn't feel the snow; she couldn't feel the earth. She had no talent for coaxing life into plants, and she had no idea what the sheep were trying to tell her. She couldn't even stir a small breeze to life on a warm day. "I'm a disgrace to our ancestors."

Her da looked at her, worry furrowing his forehead, before he scooped her into his arms and held her tight.

"Never say that, 'Leenie."

"Why not? Everyone is thinking it." She'd often overheard her mam and gran discussing her inability to use what they called the "Old Magicks."

"People are good at different things," he said in a gentle voice. "I, like many Princes, can feel the water." He made a dramatic sweeping motion with one hand, clearing the snow from the ground beneath their feet. She saw this kind of casual manipulation of the elements every day of her life and, despite her hopes, she felt—with an unexplainable certainty—that she would never be able to do it.

Her da sat down on the newly-revealed grass and patted his lap in invitation. She sat down, facing him, and waited for him to speak.

"And your mam—"

"I know what Mam can do," she interrupted him. "I've seen her and Gran shape the earth more times than I can count." She huffed and crossed her arms across her chest.

"Your time will come, 'Leenie," he said in a soft voice.

"What if …" She couldn't seem to say the words.

"What if what?"

"What if I need a wand for my magic to work?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Why would you want a wand?"

"It's hard to explain," she said with a sigh.

"Try. For me."

"I can feel the magic trapped inside me," she said, laying a spread palm across her stomach, "but it's not interested in the earth or the air or water. It makes my hands itch for something that will let it out. I think I _need_ a wand."

She wouldn't have felt comfortable saying this to anyone else but she knew her da would never make fun of her.

"You want to go to Hogwarts, don't you?" he asked.

"More than anything."

"So, let's make a deal." He helped her to her feet and she returned the favour, wincing as she heard his knees crack in protest. "I will take you to one of those wand shops and, if they seem to work for you, I'll talk to your mam about letting you go to the fancy school."

"What's my part of the deal?" she asked, a little uncertain.

"You, my dear daughter, have to promise to always try your hardest and …" He raised his eyebrows at her, building the suspense.

"And what, Da?"

He grabbed one of her gloved hands in his own and rested his other on her waist.

"You have to promise to dance with me whenever I want. Deal?"

"Deal!" she said with a grin.

He started humming a tango and swept her across the field, clearing the snow from around their feet as they went.

* * *

Ash, unicorn tail hair, twelve inches precisely. Warmth filled her as she closed her hand around the delicate handle.

"Well, dear," said the strange man with snow-pale eyes, "give it a wave."


End file.
